


Full Circle

by mischievousmaya



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischievousmaya/pseuds/mischievousmaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Years Eve, 10 years after Sookie found an amnesiac Eric running along the road, so much has happened, will they be able to find their way back to each other? A/U</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

The chilled air wove its way through naked branches before pushing up against the walls of the house, seeking entrance. She stood by the window, the warmth of the fire caressing her like a blanket as a lone candle flickered on the sill. It was a signal to him. A signal that she wasn't sure would reach him. She had waited to light it, and although it was less than half melted he had not come. She couldn't see far into the darkness and didn't know what caused the rustlings of leaves, but she knew it wasn't him. He slipped silently through the night, evidence of his movements imperceptible.

He had made his presence known in her life though. He had arrived with the force of a hurricane, turning her life upside down and tearing down the walls that she had protected herself with. He was a force of nature, making deep impressions in her soul. She had hated him, resented him at first. But just as moving waters smooth even the most jagged rocks over time, his constant motion had changed her little by little until she didn't know who she was.

She knew who she was now though. She led a quiet life- he had once told her that she was barely existing; but he seemed to accept her choices now. It had been hard to walk away from the life that she had created, the world that she lived in, the people that she loved…but she had. She had walked away from him too. But no matter how far she ran, he would always find her. They had argued, they had loved and they had argued some more. She knew that she could not be a part of his life. She knew that she wouldn't survive if she stayed. It took more than three years for him to accept her refusal to return.

The dead leaves tumbled over each other as the wind swept over the expanse of land outside her sanctuary. She wondered if this might be the year that he didn't come to her. She wondered if he had finally forgotten about her. Memories of a cold New Year's Eve night ten years ago wrapped her in a familiar embrace. She held on to the time when he was truly hers like a security blanket, proof that she had loved and been loved. She remembered the way that he touched her so gently – almost reverently, when they made love; how she had given into his searing kisses with wild abandon. She lost herself in the memories of a long-ago shower and the way he had washed the remnants of the day from her body with a tenderness that she hadn't known him capable of.

The candle flickered in the window sill and she breathed in deeply, the comforting smell of the wood fire filling her nostrils. Her eyes closed and she turned her head expectantly, opening her eyes slowly. He was not there. She turned back to the window and wrapped her arms around herself. She had been standing there for over an hour, but still she waited.

When she left her childhood home eight years before, she left quietly during the day with no goodbyes. Even though she knew logically she was not responsible for the destruction of the lives around her, her heart couldn't stand the guilt. Her decisions had led to the deaths of her grandmother, her cousin, her cousin's unborn child and her brother at the hands of those who sought to harm her through them. Her grandmother and her brother were buried in the parish cemetery beside her ancestral home, a constant reminder of her stubborn refusal to see the danger that had come into her life.

So she ran. She moved from city to city, seeking solitude and peace, but they were abstract concepts that she couldn't quite grasp. Each apartment, each job, each attempt at a new life was just a placeholder until he would appear in her life again. Each name that she assumed, each life that she took was funded by the legacy her great-grandfather left her when he too disappeared. Twelve different cities and three years later she found solace in the outskirts of a village in the highlands of Scotland. She felt connected to the land here. She felt at peace. In a house not much different than the one she had hastily left, she stopped looking over her shoulder. She felt safe.

He had found her every time she ran. He had whispered that he would find her wherever she hid, that she was his and he was hers. It tore at her soul as she pushed him away time and time again. She was emphatic in her words of refusal, but her heart always betrayed her. He knew that she was lying, and one day he stopped arguing with her. His intrusions became less frequent until they became yearly memorials of a love that they could never follow to its conclusion.

The candle still burned, but there was less than half now. She had added wood to the fire and resumed her vigil at the window. She breathed deeply. Perhaps it was finally time to lay to rest the fantasies that she had been holding onto. She was almost 37, no longer the young woman that had first caught his eye. Her beauty had not faded, but it had matured – albeit more slowly as a result of her unique heritage and the life-giving elixir that she had ingested for so many years. Thoughts of him surrounded by young, thoughtless girls did not bother her, but the thought that someone could have taken the place in his heart that she once held almost broke her resolve. Was that what was keeping him from her on their…anniversary?

The wind picked up as it rolled in from the sea and over the mountains, tossing the leaves against the house. The branches of the trees moved restlessly and she felt the first tinges of regret burrow themselves into her consciousness, planting seeds of longing and heartbreak. She chastised herself for waiting so long to light the candle. She berated herself for her foolish pride that was threatening to steal the only thing that she found herself looking forward to…And if she was truly honest with herself, living for. Her days were spent in anticipation of his arrival, not that she would ever admit it.

The clock on the mantle chimed eleven thirty. He had never been this late. But she had never waited over an hour before lighting the candle either. He had always knocked at her door before the match had stopped smoking. She knew that she should extinguish the flame and go to bed, but she couldn't. She held onto the hope that he was merely late – that something had delayed him. She clung to that piece of hope to stop from drowning in a reality that she couldn't yet face.

The times that she worked in the garden, the sun warming her face, dirt under her fingernails and connected with the earth, she felt independent. Thoughts of him were banished to the far reaches of her mind. She felt strong. She felt sure of her choices. But when the sun dipped behind the mountains and the sky put on her starry dress, she faltered sometimes. Thoughts of him would come unbidden into her consciousness and sometimes she was sure she felt him through their bond.

She would check the windows, her heart pounding against her ribs. She was never sure if she would be happy to see him or not. She wasn't sure if she could say good-bye to him more than once a year. She wasn't sure if she would say no to him if he asked her to go back with him. But he was never outside, and she would wonder if the bond was reliving memories much like a person who had lost a limb.

As she watched the leaves dance outside her window, the wind began to howl. The house groaned as it settled and the windows rattled. She pulled her sweater tightly around her body and let the memory of their last anniversary wash over her.

He had knocked on the door just as the flame on the candle flickered to life. She was smiling as she opened the door to him, giving him entrance to her home. He looked as he always did. His long blond hair was tied back and his blue eyes were bright with desire. He had barely whispered, "Lover" before his lips took hers in a searing kiss. He picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, his eyes roaming over her body and whispering Old Norse before burying his face in her hair.

No words were spoken as he removed her sweater and kissed her breasts through the lace bra that she wore. She closed her eyes as he kissed his way down her stomach before undoing her pants and pulling them gently down her legs and tossing them behind him. A moan pushed past her lips as he kissed and licked her core, his fingers replacing his tongue as he kissed his way back up her body. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, her breathing heavy, her body wanting.

He kissed her deeply and she tasted herself on his lips. She tugged on his t-shirt, lifting it up over his chiseled chest and moving her hands over him. He broke their kiss to remove his shirt then captured her lips again, his tongue seeking out hers. Her hands moved down his body and she tugged at his belt buckle trying to undo it. He took her hands in his and said, "Min alskare" as he smiled. She sat up, smiling back at him before closing her eyes. When she opened them a heartbeat later, he was standing in front of her naked.

He took her breath away. She let her gaze drift from his eyes over his broad shoulders and down his strong arms. She took in his beauty, his strength and marveled at the fact that he was hers, even if only for one night a year. He pushed her gently back down on the bed and left a trail of kisses and heat that covered her body. When his adept fingers pushed into the wetness of her centre, she gasped in pleasure. His fangs grazed her nipples while she threaded her hands in his hair. She cried out as he found her sweet spot again and again and moaned in longing when he removed his fingers.

He stroked her face and she stared into his eyes, searching the depths of them as he slid into her. Her breath hitched. He moved slowly in and out, never breaking eye contact with her. She moved in rhythm with him, grazing her fingernails down his back. His desire for her flooded the bond and merged with hers as he moved in and out of her more quickly as they approached their climaxes. As he released himself into her, waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless as she called out his name.

He did not drink from her when they made love anymore. He only took a small sip when their night together was almost over. "To keep me until the morrow," he would say. She hadn't taken his blood in years. Yet the bond still fluttered to life when he approached. It had not disappeared over the years, the distance helped, but it was more like a light dusting of rain than the torrential downpour it had once been.

Their nights together were spent making love and talking of simple things, existential things and everything in between. But they never spoke of the life she left behind. It was too painful for her. She couldn't bear the thought that someone else's star had been extinguished. They would lie in bed together and he would wrap her in his arms and they would laugh and he would whisper to her in his dead language and they would pretend that dawn was not approaching.

The candle still burned brightly in the window, illuminating her features in the glass. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. It was getting late. For a split second she was reminded of another time that he did not come for her. She pushed those memories back into the locked box at the back of her mind, refusing to relive them. She moved to the door and opened it, letting the cold air finally gain the entrance it had been so desperately seeking. She searched the dark night for a sign of him and saw only the trees swaying in the wind. She closed the door and the wind beat against it, angry at being shut out once more.

There was a pool of wax where once the tall candle had stood and she could see that it wouldn't burn for much longer. She remembered the night when he had finally accepted that she would not return. The first New Year's Eve that she spent in Scotland he had suggested lighting the candle. He wanted to make sure that there was no way for anyone to find out where she was through their phones or email. He said that he had had centuries of evading those that sought to follow him, and that he would wait for her signal that she was still there. And so it began.

They had no contact with each other for three hundred and sixty four days a year, but on the last night of the year she lit a single candle for him. The flame called him in from the shadows and into the warmth of her house. She didn't think about where he was before he arrived, nor did she think about where he went when he left her.

Her grandmother had once told her that she should start the New Year as she meant to finish it. A lifetime ago, she was surrounded by friends and family on New Year's Day. The kitchen would be filled with the scent of fresh pecan pie and turkey. The house would be filled with laughter and chatter and love as they gathered around the wooden dining table that held the memories of hundreds of happy gatherings. She was happy, she was contented and she was not alone.

Her New Year's days were now spent in quiet solitude. Before the dawn she would say her goodbyes to the only man who had truly understood her, but could never be with. When others had let her down, he had always been there to pick her up. He had known that what she wanted wasn't always what she needed and he had given her practical gifts. After years of arguments, he finally understood that one night a year was all the she could give to him. He knew that she wanted to be with him, but that she needed to be safe, to be free from the political maneuverings of his world. If nothing else, his long existence had taught him patience, and so he complied with her wishes, leaving her standing on the porch as he took to the sky.

On the first day of the new year, she made simple dinners and went for walks through the snow covered valleys before the sun made its early departure behind the mountains. She would reflect on the night before, and she would smile. It was the smile that she saved for him and she would wonder if he could feel it through the bond, or if he was too far away by that time. When she had gotten the fire blazing again, she would look through the photo albums of her childhood and wrap the old afghan around her. There were few things from her previous life that had survived the journey to Scotland. A few framed photographs and photo albums, the old afghan her grandmother had knit, the family bible and the bullet that she had sucked from his chest.

Her hand reached into her pocket and she fingered the small piece of metal that had changed the course of her life. She didn't know why she kept it, but she had developed a macabre attachment to it. The candle was going to die soon. The flame flickered and wavered and threatened to go out. For a moment she contemplated lighting another one, but dismissed the idea. If he wasn't there when it went out, then he wasn't coming.

In the instant that she realized that this might be the end of their yearly trysts, a tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away and breathed in deeply. She would not cry. She would not break down. She would hold her head high and be thankful that they had the time together that they did. She would not watch the flame flicker while the minutes ticked past and she clung to the desperate hope that there would be a knock at the door. She was in charge of her own destiny and she had the power to choose the outcome of her life. She leaned over and blew out the tiny flame, plunging her reflection into darkness.

A small sigh escaped her lips. She sat in the chair by the fire and pulled the afghan around her and watched the fire as it crackled and snapped at the wood feeding it. She had made the right decision, even if it was tearing at her heart. "A lady always knows when to leave," her grandmother had told her.

She had never wanted to become that desperate woman who waited in vain for her lover to come. She would be okay. She could find happiness and she could learn to forget. As she studied the fire, she noticed that the wind had died down. It no longer beat against the weathered wood of the house. The storm had moved past her. The snow that had been threatening to cover the landscape and cut her off from the rest of the world had not fallen.

She heard the clock chime one thirty as she drifted off to sleep while still sitting in the chair. She didn't dream. It was a peaceful sleep, devoid of the demons that often took over in her unconscious state. Time slowed as it allowed her to rest after so long a journey.

The quiet rapping at the door did not rouse her from her sleep. The knocking became more insistent, and still she did not wake. Then, it ceased and the world was plunged back into silence.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked at the clock. She had only been asleep for an hour, but she felt as though she had been asleep for an eternity. She took the blanket from her lap and stood, adding another log to the fire. She probed the bond, but it remained silent. Looking to the door, she wondered what had changed his mind this year. It was the start of a new year, and she wondered what more would change.

She went to the door and opened it, stepping out onto the porch. Her gaze was drawn to the night sky and a shooting star streaked across it. The cold air warmed in her lungs as she breathed it in and when she exhaled it came out like a puff of fog. Her attention was drawn to the snapping of a twig in the woods beside her house. She walked to the end of the porch and looked out into the darkness in an attempt to discover which creature was still up so late.

Her breath caught in her throat as she caught her first glimpse of the being making its way to her. The moonlight caught the blue of his eyes as he approached the house. She smiled at him. The smile that belonged only to him. The memory of the night ten years before warmed her cold body. He moved slowly and with purpose until he stopped in front of her and reached out to stroke her face. He stood before her looking as he had when she found him running on the side of the road all of those years ago, clad only in a pair of jeans. She reached out and touched his bare chest, and dropped her gaze to his bare feet. His blond hair was wild and loose, his azure eyes were shining with love.

"Min alskare. I am yours. I am yours for as long as you will have me," he whispered softly to her.

She took him by the hand and led him into the house. She wrapped the same afghan around his shoulders just as she had all those years ago and motioned for him to sit by the fire. The bond that connected them hummed and she was awash in his love for her. She reached out and stroked his face and then tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

"I didn't think you were going to come," she said softly.

He grasped her small hands in his and studied her face. "It took me longer to get here than I anticipated."

"Why didn't you knock?" she asked. "I would have answered."

"I did. When you didn't come to the door, I thought that you had forsaken me," he responded quietly.

"But you stayed. You didn't leave. You waited for me," she said, marveling at how small her hands looked in his.

"I have waited for you my entire existence, min alskare. I have yet to miss our anniversary." His voice was low and it reverberated through her entire body.

She tugged on his hands until he stood. "We haven't much time. Even with the longer nights here, we only have a few hours. Let's make the most of it," she said smiling.

He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead before sitting back down and pulling her onto his lap. "Min alskare, we have a lifetime of nights ahead of us. I am yours as you are mine, and I will not part with you again."

She looked at him, confused. "I'm not going back. I can't. There is nothing left there for me. My life is here. I thought you understood that."

"I do understand that, min alskare. I am not asking you to leave your home. I am asking you to accept what you would not, ten years ago." Even after all of these centuries, his speech still retained his accent.

She searched her memory for a hint as to what he was talking about.

"We could go back. We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each other's bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you. I could work. You would not be poor. I could help you," he continued.

She smiled at him. She remembered how he had said that to her while they sat in her car, his face serious and his voice proud. She had said no to him, because he had been under a spell and she felt like she would be living a lie if she accepted the offer.

"Sounds like a marriage," she said, reciting her line.

"Yes," he answered her.

"I thought we were already married," she said, raising her eyebrow at him in challenge.

"We are, but when have we actually lived as a bonded couple? Ten years ago, I was running to you, Sookie. I was running towards what my heart wanted most. It just took me awhile to get here," his voice was deep like the sea, and held as many secrets.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she could feel her heart beating faster. "Is this what you want? I can never go back, and I don't think I could stand it if you disappeared next week because you missed the intrigue and the politics….I don't think I could…"

He put a finger to her lips to silence her. "I am where I belong, and I will not leave you. I promise you."

She rose from his lap and stood in front of him, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to his feet. As she led him to her bedroom she looked back at him and said, "I've waited for you for too long. We've wasted so much time already, let's not waste another moment, Eric."


End file.
